A wish-list landmark. An international exhibition. Maybe a sceney restaurant launch. City breaks so often start with an aim but end in joyful aimlessness — casual pottering, mapless exploring, soaking up rather than seeking out. But what happens when you make aimlessness the end game?
Last summer, faced with a rare opportunity to escape for a few nights, my husband and I decided to game it, as the young people might say. We considered destinations served by one favourite tour operator and applied our preferences (coastal, sunny, relatively unknown to us). Rovinj, a city on Croatia’s Istrian peninsula — part medieval port, part chichi tourist resort — emerged as an early winner. It’s one of the best-preserved cities on the Istrian coast in the north Adriatic yet even in high season tends to be quieter than its Dalmatian counterpart, Dubrovnik. Importantly, last June it appeared to have absolutely nothing else to entice us. No high-profile landmarks, no high-energy launches. Perfection.
As it quickly transpired, however, our hotel of choice, the Grand Park, could have lured us in by itself. We booked for availability but would return for the wow factor. This modernist masterpiece sits unobtrusively in tune with its surroundings, almost hewn from the hillside in which it sits, descending tier by naturally planted tier into the sea; its double-height spaces and floor-to-ceiling windows reflect the storybook scenery outside. (Side note: the lobby has Europe’s biggest single-pane window, which has its own specially trained window cleaner.)
From inside, the 180-degree views are straight out of a Ladybird fairytale: Rovinj’s terracotta and ochre rooftops, the elegant bell tower of the Church of St Euphemia, the cornflower-blue sea and the green of the fragrant forest pines in Golden Cape Forest Park.
The coffee table book-filled lobby, spacious bar and main inside-outside buffet restaurant Laurel & Berry set the relaxed tone for the rest of the hotel. Even the fine-dining restaurant Cap Aureo Signature gave off welcoming vibes.
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During a hotel tour, we were almost further seduced by the possibilities of the surrounding area that emerged from the concierge’s enthusiastic chatter: the retro glamour and Roman imperial sites of the Brijuni National Park, a 15-minute boat ride over the Adriatic, and where the Yugoslav president Tito had his glitzy hideaway. Truffle-hunting in the forested havens of Motovun and Buzet, where we could try to break the (supposed) “truffle record” of £49,000 — the price once fetched at Sotheby’s. Hum, the smallest town in the world, whose 17 inhabitants were charged with keeping the secret medieval recipe for mistletoe grappa.
But we remained firm. Not even vineyard tours and the associated tastings could distract us. We were here to explore at an amble.
Our stylish duplex suite was open-plan (including the wardrobes although, in a welcome nod to modesty, they had knicker drawers, and, thank goodness, dividing screens between bed, bath and ablutions), with a shady deck area and private hot tub and retro touches such as a Polaroid camera. But after our early flight it was a struggle to drag ourselves off the super-sized bed, despite having had a glimpse of the magnificent rooftop infinity pool.
But that view was calling — as were sunset cocktails in the hotel bar Primi Terreni. Down by the buzzy promenade, it had a view over the harbour’s superyachts and the ancient city beyond — and came with some prime people-watching: tourists, Croatian families and yacht folk meandered along the seafront.
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We strolled around the harbour to Wine Vault, the restaurant at a neighbouring hotel. The seagull-covered swimming pool meant we didn’t have quite the promised infinity sunset sea view but the food, matched with the first of many flights of proudly presented local wines, did deliver. I was delighted the “truffles with everything” were delicately flavoured with none of their trademark bully-boy dominance. Olive oil also played a starring role, from a dip with the bread to the drizzle on the beetroot risotto (mains from £9; maistra.com).
The next morning, our wandering took us in the other direction, into the old town. In 1283 Rovinj was one of the first towns in Istria to fall to Venice and today the Italian influence is omnipresent (Venice airport is a three-hour drive away; Trieste is even closer). Signs are bilingual and spacious Venetian-style houses proliferate, as do bustling piazzas. Besides those sleek yachts, the charming harbour also offers shelter to traditional flat-bottomed batana fishing boats and small ferries.
Wandering winding streets with wonky cobbles, we caught glimpses of a glittering Adriatic through arched doorways leading to waterside art galleries or shady bars with waves lapping just below the tables. Some drinkers succumbed to the temptation to jump straight in, but not knowing what was around each corner was all the thrill we needed.
It did turn out, however, you need to work a bit harder for Rovinj’s best view. There are 192 steps inside St Euphemia’s bell tower — at 61m high, the highest church tower in Istria — and that’s after you’ve walked uphill to the entrance. The church is a copy of St Mark’s Basilica in Venice but imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and it sits as naturally here as it might in the city that inspired it.
This, and every afternoon, led back to the hotel’s rooftop infinity pool — I mean, why wouldn’t it? Those views of the light changing across the seascape, the table service, the welcome “use it or lose it” rule for sunbeds. There was even a trained hawk making sure those pesky seagulls weren’t an issue.
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We had more adventure than we bargained for in grabbing hotel bikes to explore the national park one day — frustrating lift systems and lack of signage meant we first had to explore much of the underbelly of the hotel. But the bike paths and stony coves made up for this and we spent a dozy hour in our chosen nook listening to waves lap the pebbles.
Every day, we saw the hotel’s slick speedboat ferry guests across the water to Rovinj’s “beach” on St Catherine Island. Interest piqued, we went too. And stayed until we could get the next ferry back. Unless concrete walls around stony beaches in searing sunshine is your idea of fun, my advice is to save yourself the trip and instead take the plunge from the harbour wall — although do check those crystal-clear waters for jellyfish. A shoal curtailed my first dip.
Evenings were framed by a gently recurring routine — starting with our aperitivo perch of choice at the hotel’s elevated Viva Eufemia bar, with views not only over Rovinj but over the wildflowers and grasses of the hotel’s tiers below. The sun poured in under the parapet, we had gift-wrapped “snacks” with every drink … the only thing that could have improved it were slightly more generous measures.
Generosity was not in short supply anywhere else we ate, though, such as at the former wine cellar Kantinon, with its simple and delicious harbourside meal of octopus salad and risotto with cuttlefish and lavender (mains from £14; maistra.com). As we sat in the archway surrounded by the ancient barrels, live music from the town square drifted across the water, people flitted back and forth and the sun set over St Euphemia church, as the Breton-topped proprietors plied us with anonymous but delicious digestifs.
Agli Amici, part of our hotel but on the marina, is the Italian chef Emanuele Scarello’s Michelin-starred place, where we could perfect the art of yacht-spotting while admiring the old town and St Catherine Island too. One waiter wheeled over an ornate trolley to make us bloody maggies — like a bloody mary but with gin and the same shade of cherry red as the fiery sunset — while another served us exquisite canapés that tasted of the sea. A designated bread waiter (of course) highlighted the craftsmanship in the bread basket, which rivalled the delicate and artistically constructed amuse-bouches and creations such as miso and olive ice cream. I still dream of the spaghetti with sea herbs (three courses from £102; agliamici.it).
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We saved the hotel’s other fine-dining restaurant, Cap Aureo Signature, for last. Talk about ending on a high (not that we could properly enjoy our elevated location — taller chairs would allow diners to feast on the view as well as the dishes). With a wine pairing for each of the ten courses, and extra delicacies in between, our focus quickly became simply getting through the meal (ten courses from £154; maistra.com). But it was clear nothing would be as we knew it, from the “snacks” — chef Jeffrey Vella’s take on a pizza ai funghi was served with a glass (and several top-ups) of Billecart Salmon brut rosé — to my standout dish, a minute bowl of squid cacio e pepe and crispy red mullet. My husband’s favourite was the barbecued and dusted pork loin with fermented truffle jus and confit garlic bulb. We did manage all ten courses, but only just. And in doing so broke our resolution. With bellies full to bursting, there was absolutely nothing aimless in our short stroll (more of a roll) back to our room. Bed called.
Claire Irvin was a guest of Sovereign, which has four nights’ B&B at Grand Park Hotel Rovinj from £1,399pp, including flights and transfers (sovereign.com) and Maistra Hospitality Group (maistra.com)
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